So this story was inspired by a prompt I'd read somewhere on the internet ages ago. Something like, "So and so makes chicken soup and accidentally summons a demon from hell." If you're able to find the prompt, please let me know so I can credit it properly. Anyway, the file has been sitting in my laptop for months and I've only just decided to scrub it up and post it. Isn't it strange that the urge to write only comes when I'm up to my knees in uni work? Can anyone say procrastination?

While this story has mature themes like adult language and steamy situations, there might not be any smut. Maybe. If it does develop sometime in the future, I'll always put a warning ahead.

Enjoy!

Lucy stood in her kitchen clad in a pair of polyester shorts and one of her boyfriend's T-shirts. Wooden spoon in hand, she lent her hip against the edge of the stove and balanced on one leg. Friends had often remarked that this pose was akin to a flamingo, but she was in the habit of pressing her right foot against her left knee whenever she concentrated. Right now, her eyes were fixed on an open book laid out next to the stove.

Moonlight seeped in through the window in her kitchen but was quickly disbanded by the obnoxious orange glow of her overhead lighting. It was no earlier than a quarter past three in the morning, but Lucy wasn't tired at all. No, Lucy was a long sufferer of chronic insomnia and tonight was no different to any other night. Because of her condition, she often found herself exploring new activities when all the rest of the city was sleeping.

A few weeks ago, Lucy had visited her mother's house and her mother had gifted her some of her grandmother's recipe books. Lucy's grandmother, Anna was apparently a fantastic cook and people would travel far and wide to sample her creations. Lucy's mother often recounted stories of strangers coming to pay very large sums of cash in exchange for the dishes and such, her grandmother never shared those recipes with anyone. Lucy sighed at the thought, thanking her lucky stars she was born in a time where Uber was a thing. Lucy was an awful cook.

But that night, Lucy sought to change that. On an insomnia fuelled whim, she decided it would be the perfect time to scrub up on her skills, and what better way than to try her hand at her grandmother's famous recipes? Navigating the book proved a challenge, as much of the contents were written in a sort of half English looking language Lucy had never seen before, but she made do and came across a recipe that sounded like a soup. 'Excellent,' she thought. Soup was easy. You just threw a bunch of stuff in a pot, didn't you?

At least, she thought the recipe was for a soup. The ingredient list was peculiar in the way she couldn't really imagine this combination of foods being used for anything else. A few odd herbs and spices, goat's blood, the foot of a dove etc. She figured that back in the day, these were probably the kinds of things people made do with and since she herself had the convenience of a supermarket, she could substitute some of it. While she didn't exactly have any nightshade bloom, she did have dried oregano. And living in the city, she didn't really have a bountiful supply of goats and doves, but she did have a frozen chicken in the freezer so she simply threw the whole thing in, bloody juices and all.

"That's odd," she said aloud to herself. "There's no instructions for time or temperature." And it was odd, nobody would disagree with Lucy on that. But what any sane person might have argued, is that a recipe asking for goat's blood and dove feet might have been a tad bit more on the peculiar side. Lucy wasn't fazed, though.

She concluded that she probably should just boil the thing, and so she turned the heat up to the highest setting and went to her living room to flip through the rest of the recipe book while she waited. She settled into her sofa and turned the page that contained the soup she was cooking, and on the back was a circle drawn in red pencil, filled with intricate patterns and symbols which, if Lucy used her imagination, could have looked like words. Lucy thought it was a very pretty drawing and noted that she would have to ask her mother why she never mentioned that her grandmother was an artist. A strange urge to replicate the drawing came over her, and so without really thinking about why, she pulled a pen and paper from her coffee table drawer and began to to draw the image for herself.

It took her a little longer than she'd have anyone know, but when Lucy finished, she admired her work. Maybe tomorrow night when her boyfriend came over he could have a look at the scribing and maybe he would know what language it was, if it even was a language. If she recalled correctly Adrian took a history class in university a few semesters back, and while it probably wasn't much, it was more than Lucy knew about history. Everything she knew about the topic, she sourced from Netflix documentaries. Or YouTube on late nights when she'd fallen down the rabbit hole, starting with movie trailers and somehow ending up watching, 'Top 10 ancient monsters caught on camera', or some other obscure title like that.

Tap, tap, tap…

Lucy fell silent save for the soft thud of her pen dropping to the carpet. She touched the tip of her finger to her phone that rest on her coffee table and saw that the time read 3:33. She was sure she'd just head someone tap at her front door, but who on Earth would visit at this hour?

Tap, tap, tap...

The tapping came again and this time, it was a little louder.

Lucy didn't know if she should answer it or not. On one hand, this could be some crazed lunatic trying to break into her apartment and murder her. Visions of herself bloodied and mangled and stuffed in a suitcase flashed before her eyes and she instantly regretted all those murder documentaries she watched last night. On the other hand, it could be a friend or family member in trouble.

TAP! TAP! TAP!

That was definitely a knock. She collected herself and inched towards the door. "Hello?" she squeaked. She waited for a reply, but nothing came. So she went closer.

And closer.

And closer...

BANG!

Lucy screamed. Whatever was on the outside of the door had just about rammed into it, the door shook so violently she swore she saw a crack form on that hideous beige paint.

Lucy decided she would have better chances hiding in her bedroom than taking on whatever monstrosity was out there, so she made a mad dash down her hallway to her back room and slammed the door behind her. As soon as she'd gotten inside, she realized that low and behold, she'd forgotten her phone and would have absolutely no way of calling the police. It was then that she realized that this whole shenanigan was sort of starting to play out like a cliché horror movie. A busty blonde home alone traps herself in a room with no way to call for help while a murderer crashes his way into her apartment.

"Fuck."

The banging stopped suddenly, and Lucy let out a long breath she didn't notice she'd been holding. But when the sound of heavy boots echoed through her near empty apartment, she almost wished the banging would start again. Whatever was out there was now inside her home.

Frantically, she glanced around her room for a weapon. Something to defend herself with. Anything. She laid eyes on her hair curler. She brandished it as if it were a samurai sword, suddenly feeling braver. Horror movies be damned. This busty blonde wasn't going down without a fight.

She threw the door open and pushed the curler forward. Then, she saw him.

He was standing in the middle of her living room, but he wasn't facing her. He was tall, his skin a deep tan and his hair a very light shade of red, almost pink. His top half was naked, but he wore black pants. His neck craned down and examined Lucy's grandmother's recipe book in his hands.

She wasn't aware he'd even noticed her until he spoke. "What's gong on, here?" he asked. And when she didn't reply, he snapped his head towards her. Suddenly, the book caught fire in his hands. She watched the ash fall from his fingers before she slammed the door shut and retreated back into her bedroom.

"Hey, I asked you a question!"

"I can't hear you, please go away!" she called back.

"I know you're in there!" he said, and she could hear that he stood just outside her bedroom.

"No I'm not!"

She heard a sigh. Did this maniac actually sigh? Like all of this was just such an inconvenience? Well, excuse Lucy for being home when he decided to stop by and break her door down. The audacity.

"I don't have time for games, witch. Open the door."

'Witch?' Again. The audacity. "No!"

There was a pause, but it didn't last long. Before she knew what was happening, Lucy was being pushed along the floor as the door opened behind her. The man reached around and gripped her arm, and Lucy screamed. But she didn't scream because she was afraid. No, she screamed because under his touch, her skin blistered and burned as if she had just placed her arm in a fire. He pulled his hand away, an action that made Lucy think he had been burned, too.

"Sorry," he muttered. He reached for her again and Lucy swung at him with her hair curler, but her attack stopped abruptly. His head didn't even move on impact. She might as well have been hitting a brick wall. He gripped her arm again, lower this time, and she waited for he searing pain but it never came. He pulled her to her feet.

She backed against the wall and he stared down at her with dark eyes full of malice. "Now, tell me Witch, why have you summoned me?"

"Um, hello?"

Both Lucy and the stranger looked to the entry way to see a woman with long blue tresses standing there with her fingertips to her lips. Juvia. Lucy's nosy neighbor. Her savior, her angel. From this point forward Lucy swore to never complain about Juvia's behavior. Never would she scowl when she found her mail opened in her letter box. Never again would she curse under her breath when Juvia would visit, only to ask about other people Lucy brought over. Never! "Juvi-"

The man pressed a hand to Lucy's mouth and leant forward to whisper in her ear. "Are you as stupid as you look, Witch? You know that if any other mortals find out about me, I have to kill them." He raised a hand to Lucy's hip and ducked under her shirt, and Lucy felt her skin heat up. He didn't burn her, but she could feel that if she pressed the matter, he would. She didn't know how he was doing it, but she wasn't about to risk her friend's safety. She only hoped Juvia would read the room and notice something was off. Lucy nodded and he slowly lowered his hand, never once breaking eye contact.

"Juvia," she started and tried to control the quiver in her voice. "Hi."

"Juvia heard a lot of banging and screaming, is everything okay?"

Lucy went to answer, but the man turned to Juvia. He pressed away from Lucy and smiled as he approached her concerned friend. "Everything's fine! Juvia, is it? I'm Brad. Nice to meet you."

By now, he had reached her and he extended a hand to shake. Juvia accepted it and raked her eyes up and down his body. "Lucy! You didn't tell me you had... company. Are you a friend of Adrian's?"

"Yes! Lucy replied and came to stand a few feet behind the man. "Yes, he is. Sorry to worry you, Juvia."

"Oh, it's not a bother." She eyed the broken door. "It seems you've been having fun tonight." Juvia's voice rose slightly, as if she were asking a question.

The way Juvia's cheeks flushed pink and her nose turned upwards let Lucy know she already had an idea of what was going on. Unfortunately for Lucy, she couldn't be further off.

He smiled again and raised an arm to rub the back of his head. "I guess you could say that! We'll try to keep it down." And with that, he lifted the door off the ground and pushed it back in the frame.

He turned back to Lucy, examined her, grabbed her arm again and dragged her to the kitchen where he came to a complete stop in front of the stove. "Now, would you like to explain why I'm here?"

Lucy was flabbergasted. "I-I don't know?! You're the one who broke my door down and burnt my arm!"

He scoffed. "You called me here. Do you think I'd willingly come to a place like this? I mean look at the place. Those curtains, with this colour scheme? I thought your kind were supposed to me creative?"

"My kind?"

"Yeah, you witches."

"I'm not a witch!"

"Then why am I here?"

She felt like crying. "I don't know! I was just making soup and colouring because I couldn't sleep. Next thing I know a half-naked guy breaks down my door, gives me third degree burns and insults my home décor!

He just fanned his eyelids at her. "You call this home décor?"

"Just leave! I don't have anything of value. If you're looking for jewelry or stashed money, I don't have any. Hell, I'll help you look! I've been living off ramen for the last few days!"

The stress had finally broken her, and she snapped. Grunting and muttering under her breath, she went to the freezer to retrieve a bag of frozen peas. She refused to make eye contact with him, what was his name? Brad? Instead, she busied herself with wincing through pain as she pressed the peas to her arm and tried to blink back her tears.

"Sorry," she heard him say. "For burning you."

She didn't acknowledge him but he continued anyhow. "I didn't mean to. I wasn't thinking."

"How did you do it? Do you have a lighter or something?"

"No, it's just natural. I'm a demon, after all. You should know that."

Now, she looked at him. "Demon? What's that? Some local gang?"

He shook his head, folded his arms across his chest and leant on her kitchen counter. "Are you telling me that you've summoned me, the Great Demon E.N.D… on accident?"

"I thought you said your name was Brad?"

E.N.D threw his hands up as if he just couldn't bare anymore and shifted on his feet. "Who in the ever loving fuck is Brad?"

"You- you just sai-"

"Fool! I am a demon. You expect me to tell that blue mortal woman my name? You summoned me using that ritual in that book. It's intended for my brother." He lowered his voice in contemplation. "It's strange, I haven't seen someone mess it up so badly that they've called me in centuries."

"First my curtains, now you call my soup a ritual?"

He tilted his head and scrunched his nose. "You're a witch, aren't you?"

"For the last time, I'm not a witch!"

For a moment, his jaw hung slack. He collected himself, pressed off the counter and dusted off his shoulders. "So, it's true. You're not a witch… Didn't you read the sigil?"

"Sigil? Oh, yo mean the doodle on the back of the recipe?"

It appeared that E.N.D had had just about enough of the whole situation, because he clamped his hands together and nodded. "Well hurry up then, send me back."

"What do you mean, send you back? You go back!"

He rolled his eyes and moved to take a seat at her two-person breakfast table. "I can't, you moron. You summoned me, I can't go back until you banish me."

"I don't know how to do that!"

"Alright then," he leant back in his chair and draped an arm over the back. "That book has gotta say something about it."

Lucy froze for a second before placing her hands upon her hips and glaring at him, dropping the peas to the ground. It would melt and wet the floor, but she didn't are. With any luck, this homicidal maniac would slip and break his stupid neck. "Wow, yeah! What a good idea! Let me just have a look at- oh wait, we can't. Someone burnt it to a bloody crisp on their way in!" Her voice was thick with sarcasm and it almost made E.N.D smile. Almost. "Hold on, let me just duck down to the shops and get some craft glue. Maybe we can glue the ashes back together!"

E.N.D noticed a vein begin to raise on her forehead. This time, he did smile. "Hey, I've got time."

Defeated, Lucy put her back to a bare wall adjacent to him and slid down until she was in a sitting position. After a small bout of silence, she lolled her head to the side to meet his eyes and asked, "Isn't there some other way we can get you home?"

"There is," he replied and clapped his hands together in front of him. "But I don't think you're gonna like it."

"Try me."

"I eat your soul, automatically breaking the summoning spell."

She whimpered. "Please don't eat me."

At that, he threw back his head and laughed. The sound was unhuman, half man half beast and it was then that Lucy was reminded of what she was dealing with. He had looked so normal sitting there at her breakfast table only moments before. But now, the heightened emotions drew the devil out into the open and she could feel white hot flames rolling off of him. She slowly stood and braced herself against the wall. Any doubt of what he was fled from her mind.

When he finally stopped laughing and his threatening aura calmed down, he said, "Don't worry, sweetheart. I won't eat you. Yet. I'll let you find a way to send me back just because your grandmother was quite respected in our world. My brother wouldn't let me hear the end of it if I ate the granddaughter of his precious Anna."

Lucy's voice shook. "H-how do you know my grandmother?"

He rose to his feet and Lucy wanted nothing more in the world than to run, but something was holding her in place. She didn't know if it was fear or if it was his doing, but she felt paralysed as he approached her. He drew so close that if she were to look down, her forehead would bump right into his bare chest. His heat caused her to sweat. He touched a finger under her chin.

"How do I know Anna? She was a friend of my brother's. That little cooking attempt was how she used to summon him. Because you've gone and messed up the ceremony, you've only been able to call me."

E.N.D's eyes dropped from her own, and watched her throat move when she swallowed. His finger traced down and he wrapped his had around her neck, fingertips almost nudging his thumb behind her. He examined the sweat on her forehead, the tremor in her cheeks and lips as she squirmed. His touch was gentle, observing. He held her like that for what Lucy could only assume was an eternity, suspending her in fear. Would he kill her?

A smile turned the corner of his mouth and he released her. "Relax, I already said I wouldn't hurt you… Lucy."

She gasped. "How?"

He'd already turned his back on her and was making his way to her living room. "Sweetheart, when a Heartfilia child is born, it doesn't go unnoticed. I'm just as surprised as you are so don't get ahead of yourself. I'd never have expected a descendant of Anna to be so vulnerable."

Lucy was lost for words. Truly, this is something her mother, or someone, could have mentioned to her? 'Oh, by the way Lucy, your grandmother was a witch who used to keep the company of terrifying demons with the ability to burn anything at will. Be careful with her cookbooks, will you?'

She moved from her place on the wall and gripped the doorframe of her kitchen, peering around to see the back of his pink head snuggled up on her sofa. "Lucy, where's the remote?" she heard him ask, but she didn't dare reply. This was her chance to escape. If she were quiet, she could slip past him and run straight out the door. Would she run to a neighbor or would she just use the fire exit and bolt on to the street and scream for help? She hadn't gotten that far yet, she just knew she had to get out of the apartment. Now.

He turned, looking straight at her. "Lucy! The remote!"

'Fuck'

She ran anyway. In the corner of her eye she saw him roll his head around and stand, but she somehow ripped her broken door down and bounced back before it fell on her. In a split second, she was running down the hall. She could see the fire exit, her salvation. All she had to do was get through there and she could be free. She reached for the knob but recoiled with a hiss. The knob was white hot, the second's contact scalding her hand. She stepped back, wincing and she bumped into something hard. Firm hands gripped her shoulders and spun her around.

She wanted to switch places with the doorknob and melt away into nothingness. He was furious. The deep husk of his voice didn't match the fire in his eyes and the strength in his grip. "Come back inside."

Defeated and afraid of what would happen if she defied him, she agreed.

When inside and after he'd fixed the door for a second time, he gestured for her to sit on the sofa. She obliged. His hands went up to his temples and he closed his eyes. "Listen, I said I had time to humor you and give you a chance but I don't have a millennia. The longer I stay here, the longer I…"

Lucy stared expectantly and when he didn't continue she built the courage, or stupidity, to urge him on. "What? What happens if you stay here too long?"

He met her eyes for a moment but shook his head. "Never mind. I just have to get back soon, and since you claim to not be a witch, I don't suppose you want to make a contact with me anyway."

"What if I did? How do we do that?"

At that, his glum mood shattered to make way for another laugh, this one sounding less beastly than the last. "I wouldn't even if you knew how. I can smell the weakness on you, you have nothing to offer me."

She slumped in her seat. Demons were supposed to be merciless creatures of the underworld, or so she'd seen in movies. She just didn't expect them to be so ruthless when it came to hurting her feelings.

He cleared his throat and Lucy saw smoke ghost through his parted lips. "Ahem. Sorry little mortal. Whatever you'd want from me just wouldn't be worth my while, and I couldn't even seep any strength from you."

"What if I just waned you to leave me alone?"

"That's for you to work out, not me. You made this mess," he gestured to the kitchen. "Besides, I couldn't help you if I wanted to. I've never been banished before. Anyone who had ever summoned me completed their contact."

"You're saying a contact is the only way to get you back, so why won't you make one with me?"

He looked down and if Lucy squinted, she might have seen the shadow of pity that forced his eyelids to flutter and pulled his lips downwards. "Because I said I'd give you a chance. If you make a contact with me and I fulfill it, you have nothing to offer me except your soul. I can use your soul for strength, but I'd also use it to guide my way back. Souls have an innate sense of direction in the afterlife. They know exactly where to go. And since you'd have meddled in ungodly arts… let's just say, you won't lead me to any pearly gates."

She touched her chin to her chest. "So why aren't you doing that? It would be easier for you, wouldn't it?"

E.N.D came to rest beside her on the sofa. He let out a noise of victory when he felt the remote pop up between the sofa cushions. "It would," was all he said.

She turned her head to him, her hair spread out on the backrest behind her like a crown. "Do you promise not to hurt me?" He took a double take, momentarily distracted from flipping through channels on her TV, but returned his attention to the screen nonetheless.

"For now, Lucy."

"For now?" Her voice was so quiet, E.N.D, even with his heightened hearing, wasn't even sure he'd heard her.

He groaned. "I don't value my brother's past relationships over my own life. I promise to give you time, but that's all."

"How long?"

"Hm?"

"How long?" she repeated.

"Let's start with a week and see how I'm feeling."

"A week. Okay." Suddenly, insomnia was a foreign concept to Lucy. Even though there was a supernatural entity sitting beside her watching early morning adult cartoons beside her, she was fighting an inward battle with the Sandman and she neared surrender. Just as her eyelids began to close, E.N.D spoke.

"Hey, Lucy. Be a good girl and get me a plate of that soup, would ya?"

Now, I'm fully aware that Anna isn't Lucy's actual grandmother. She's a great, great, great grandmother or something, isn't she? But for the sake of this story, she's a witch and she's Layla's mother. And if anywhere in this chapter I've referred to E.N.D as Natsu, please let me know! He's not supposed to have introduced himself as Natsu, yet. Additionally, I know he should be absolutely starkers because why do demons need pants, right? But I gave him pants because, c'mon. Let's cut the guy a break. Also, no he's not in full E.N.D form. He just looks like Natsu.

Thanks for reading! :)